The Quality of Mercy
by Laurie Le May
Summary: Nick and Heath's friendship is tested when a blasting accident on the ranch leaves a young woman blind. This is a re-posting with a significant, yet entirely appropriate change in the plot. You will notice the difference if you've read this story before, but even if you dislike change, keep your expectations high, and read on. I think you'll like what you find.
1. Chapter 1

**THE QUALITY OF MERCY**

Nick Barkley held up a pair of binoculars and watched the south pass with intense interest. The men on the detonation crew had planted several sticks of dynamite in key areas to blast away rock debris from the previous week's earthquake. Time was wasting. The cattle should have been through the pass days ago. Any more hold-ups and they'd lose money fast.

Heath slapped Nick's shoulder. "Don't worry. It'll work. We'll have the passage clear before sunset."

"It better work. Landslides already set us back a week. One more delay like this and we'll barely break even at the market." Half the ridge surrounding the pass slid into the valley after the earthquake. The more he saw the damage from the fallen rock, the sicker he felt. Nick hoped only two to three more well-placed detonations would clear the area, but the clock was ticking. "The men should be ready by now, what's holding them up?"

"It'll detonate in a minute. Just give 'em time," Heath said.

"We've wasted most of the morning as it is just setting the—wait a minute." Nick's voice took an urgent turn. He leaned forward and focused on stage-coach just turning the bend in the road. "You told me the road was blocked."

"It is."

Nick bared his teeth. "Damn it. Somebody got through. They're riding at a good clip. Call off the men."

Heath removed his hat to give the men on the blasting crew the signal to halt, but it was too late. The blast came, shooting rock into the air, the coach was perilously close. The rumble shook the ground as the aftershock rolled over the valley toward Nick and Heath, who waited on the opposite ridge. Their horses skittered leaving Nick searching through the shaky field of vision for the carriage in the dust and debris. He couldn't see a damned thing. Too much dirt and rock still raining from the sky. He slammed the confounded spectacles into a saddlebag. Muttering a curse, Nick turned Coco, eased down a steep slope on the ridge, and galloped across the valley toward the blast area with Heath following suit.

Other men rode in from all directions to help and Nick saw the dark image of the overturned carriage in the settling dust. He scanned the ridge above and seeing no immediate danger from sliding rock, he dismounted and ran to the coach.

"Careful, Nick!" Heath shouted.

"Find the driver!" Nick shouted back.

He pulled the neckerchief over his nose and mouth to fend off the dust as he put a boot on the axle and climbed up the carriage to look inside. A coughing and sobbing man leaned over the limp form of a young woman.

"Jessica!" the young man cried. "Oh God, Jessica."

"We'll get you out," Nick told him.

"What was that? You trying to kill us?" The man in a dusty suit and tie hovered over the unconscious woman. "She's dead! I-I think she's dead!"

"Calm down!" The last thing he needed was a frightened, combative victim. "We'll get you out."

Heath climbed up the other side and helped him open the passenger door. "Driver's bein' carried out, Nick. I think he'll be alright," he said. "Just dazed."

Nick gave a quick nod and then eased his way down into the compartment, careful not to step on either occupant.

"You first." Nick told the anxious man. He glanced up at Heath through the open door. "I'm sending him up."

"I won't leave Jessica!"

The man was wild with fright. He tried to stand and take an awkward swing at Nick, but Nick blocked him. He didn't want to knock the guy out, and it wouldn't take much of a blow judging by the looks of the man who had blood on his face and a slightly stunned expression. An unconscious man would be hell to lift out of this coach.

"We'll get her out, but you have to go first!" Nick ordered.

The man lost his balance and fell back against what was once the roof. He finally gave in and nodded. "All right. All right."

Nick laced his fingers and provided a step for the young man. Nick hoisted him up. Heath grabbed the man's arms and pulled him clear of the compartment.

Nick bent down to see about the girl. Her face was pale, her dark hair was loose and matted with dirt and when he checked for a broken neck-and deciding there were no breaks-he discovered blood flowing from a nasty head wound. Relief came over him when he looked for and found a strong pulse.

Heath was back in the doorway. "Can you move her Nick? I don't much like the looks of these boulders overhead."

Nick looked up. "Yeah. She has a head wound though. Bleeding pretty bad, but we can move her."

Heath turned his head and called, "Seth! Get over here. We need a hand!"

Seth, a steady new hire at the ranch, climbed up and showed his face too. "Send her up, Nick," he said.

Nick scooped up the unconscious woman who weighed not so much more than a newborn calf even with her layers of skirts. A frail thing. "Easy," he said, lifting her up as far as he could. Seth grabbed her arm and pulled. "Damn it, Seth. Careful!" Nick ordered. "She's not a rodeo bull!"

"Sorry, Boss."

Nick handed her up, supporting her as they lifted her out and took her away from the wreckage. Her injuries were pretty bad. He'd known men who didn't survive similar blows to the head. It would be hard to tell how severe this was until she could be examined by a doctor. He turned a trunk on its edge and climbed up. When he jumped down from the carriage, Heath jogged up.

"I sent ol' Seth to get Doc Merar." He looked back at the two passengers. The young injured man knelt beside the woman in the dress of royal blue, caressing her long hair. She still did not move, nor make any sign indicating life.

"The house is the closest and safest place to take them," Nick told Heath. "We'll have to get that girl out of here as soon as possible." He scanned the damaged carriage, the two deceased horses that got it here and cursed. "We'll load the injured in a wagon and I'll go back with them to make sure Mother knows what's happened, and I'll wait for Doctor Merar. You stay here, Heath, do whatever you have to do. This pass," he said stabbing a finger at the rubble that kept their cattle from auction, "has to be cleared out, today."

"Right, Nick." Heath scanned the rubble and the ruined carriage. "What about Artie?"

Artie Simmons. He'd worked for the Barkleys for a good fifteen years. He was the man they left in charge of the road to make sure no one traveled it while they were blasting. Nick hated what he had to do next.

"He knows his job better than this. He should have stopped these people. Find out what he was doing. The only excuse I'll accept is if he was dead at the time that carriage got through. Understand?"

"You got it." Heath jogged back to the men standing around the rubble, got them moving again.

Satisfied for the time being that the job of clearing the pass would continue, Nick cursed again and, pushing a dent out of his hat, he stepped over the rubble to find a damned wagon.


	2. Chapter 2

Evening settled in and the house was quiet when Heath arrived home. He'd expected to be greeted by someone coming and going, and the eerie silence and absence of family bothered him. The halls were lit, but not dramatically. Seemed as though the dark mood at the blast site had traveled to the house with Nick and hung there. When he finally heard some voices from upstairs-behind closed doors, his feet began to move. He saw a light on in the study and decided to look for his brother there. At least he brought some good news to tell him.

When Heath found him, Nick was gloomily leafing through documents strewn on the desk. After seeing the man's face and reading the dark mood etched there, Heath would rather face a loaded stick of dynamite right now.

"You've got something for me Heath?" Nick said without glancing up. He studied one of the papers more closely and then set it aside. "Let's have it."

"The pass is clear." Heath turned his hat a bit in his hands. "We'll be able to move the cattle through at first light tomorrow."

Nick glanced up. "As we agreed," he said flatly. "At this rate, we ought to break even."

Heath hadn't expected laurels for his announcement, but the men had worked hard and long to complete the job. A little acknowledgment from Nick for their efforts would have been at least something to take back to them.

Nick pushed back from the desk and went to the liquor cabinet. "Drink?"

"No thanks. I'm too tired as it is."

Unusually stoic, Nick said nothing as he opened a fresh bottle of scotch.

"I passed the doctor's coach on the road." Heath said, hoping to ease his way into a conversation that might enlighten him to what happened after Nick left the blast site.

"Yeah. About that," Nick said as he poured the amber liquor into a glass. "The woman suffered a skull fracture. It's slight, but bad enough that he doesn't want her to be moved. Looks like she and her companion will be our house guests for a while." Nick took the glass of scotch and kicked it back. He set the glass down and turned. "They could sue us, Heath. And between you and me, they have a good case." He crossed his arms. "So, what about Artie?"

Heath dreaded to tell Nick what happened, and he thought of different approaches, but there was no way to ease around the incriminating facts. Artie was a good friend, but Heath could barely soften the news for him. "You know he's had a hard time since his wife died." Heath offered. He knew Nick wouldn't accept that as an excuse.

Nick nodded and his eyes, already stern, intensified into a glare. "He was drunk, wasn't he?"

"He had a bottle with him when he went out this morning. He set up the road block and figured he'd done his job, and he fell asleep. It's not a well-traveled road, Nick."

"We've given him every chance-_every chance_ to straighten up. Don't you realize what we could be up against now? Jarrod is cutting his week short in San Francisco because of this mess. We stand to lose a lot more than what we would have lost just being late to auction."

"Well, all I can say is," Heath said quietly. "Artie knows what he's done. He's askin' to come talk to you. He wants to apologize."

Nick shook his head and paced away from Heath, hands fisted on his hips. He stopped and looked back. "Nothing will change what has to be, Heath. As much as it pains me to say this, Artie has to go."

"I understand. He's gettin' his gear together now. He'll be leavin' in the morning."

Heath couldn't stand the thought of poor Artie without any means to get by, and his boy, now just turned eleven couldn't help support a father who'd lost everything. Heath shoved on his hat and turned to walk out the door.

"Heath," Nick said, stopping him in his tracks. His voice was softer now. "I'll make sure he gets his severance pay tonight. It ought to be enough for him to get by for a while. He was a good hand. Someone'll pick him up." The words seemed empty and they both knew it. Rumor would get around and Artie would have a tough time finding any meaningful work that would be enough to support him and his boy.

"I'll be down to the bunk house in the morning," Nick added. "I'll talk to him before he leaves."

"You do that," Heath said, and he walked out the door. He'd have to face Artie tonight and that didn't set well at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Nick's bleary eyes could hardly focus on the papers in front of him. He'd written and scratched out and rewritten countless times by the pale light of a desk lamp to get the details of the blasting accident onto paper as accurately as possible. He knew his side of the story and nearly every detail of what his own men had done and when they'd done it before, during, and after the accident. What he didn't know, and so couldn't tell Jarrod, was why that coach was on that road in the first place. Artie had put up the road block, he'd put up the warning signs. If the driver could read, he would have known the danger that lay on the road ahead of him. He would have stopped and found another route regardless of whether the man who was supposed to guard the road was in a dead drunk or not.

Damn!

That was the crux of it. Artie had fallen asleep on the job and now two people were badly injured. One of them had nearly been killed.

Of all the bad luck.

Nick had tried to get the other side of the story, but couldn't get a word out of the driver who had nary a scratch from the ordeal. He called himself Johnson. No first name. Even at the prospect of getting a fist to the face, the man didn't divulge anything else about himself and several men had to hold Nick back to keep him from following through on his threat. Now that Johnson was gone, headed back to Stockton and then on to San Francisco where he was based, the Barkley's injured house guests would have to divulge what they knew. They had nowhere to run, at least not until the young lady was well enough to travel. They were young, probably around Gene's age. Pliable. Nick would have them talking soon enough.

He rolled his shoulders and cocked his neck to one side to get the kinks out of it. He always hated being tied to a desk, especially in working out problems like this which couldn't possibly end up in the Barkleys' favor.

He released a heavy sigh.

"Nick."

When he glanced up, he saw Mother in the doorway, still in her day dress.

"It's ten o'clock," she said. "I'm sure that whatever paperwork you have left can wait until morning."

"Mother I've got to get this report ready for tomorrow. Jarrod will want to know every detail about the accident."

"Yes, I imagine he will, but he would want you to take care of yourself first. Did you have any supper yet?"

"I'm too wound up to eat," he said. He got up and stepped around the desk, thankful for any reason to get away from the problem strewn out on all those papers. Still, he couldn't keep himself from pacing. "Mother, I fired Artie."

"I know."

"He left me no choice," Nick went on, "The man's been with us for fifteen years-fifteen!" He pushed a hand through his hair and drew it into a fist at the base of his neck. "Father was the one who hired him for God's sake. If there could have been some other way around it, I would have taken it."

"I know. You did what you had to do. No one would fault you for that."

"Heath might," Nick said when he turned to face her. "He and Artie are pretty close."

"Heath never questioned you. He above all others knows why you had to let Artie go. He would have done the same had it been his decision. The only difference is he has the luxury of feeling sympathy and being able to act on it."

"You're right." He rubbed his face and yes, he was too tired to write anymore. A good meal and a long, restful sleep would do him good.

"Silas has made us a late supper," Mother said, apparently sensing his change in mood.

"I could use a bite to eat, now that you mention it."

"Our guest, Mr. Ramsey will be joining us."

"Good. I'd like to ask him a few questions about why that coach was anywhere near-"

"Nick, I ask that you postpone questioning our guest until he's had some rest. He is very concerned about his cousin. The young woman hasn't awakened yet and he's still quite distraught-as he has every right to be. He will dine with us and he will be treated the same as any other guest in our home."

"No questions, then."

"No questions."

Nick sighed. "Well mother, if you put a gag order on me, I'll follow it to the letter." He walked over to his mother and kissed her forehead. "But sooner or later that boy will talk and he'll tell us why he was in such an all-fired hurry that he had to supersede a roadblock that was put there for his protection."

* * *

Supper was a subdued affair. With Audra visiting friends, and Jarrod still out of town, only three remaining family members were present. Heath, still sullen from having just spoken with Artie, slouched in the chair and kept his eyes on his food as he ate. Nick, as stressed as he was, couldn't taste any of the beef and barley stew and rolls Silas had prepared and he force-fed himself based on the fact that his stomach had actually growled on the way to the table.

Ramsey hardly touched his food and seemed physically and emotionally uncomfortable. The young man's shoulder had been badly sprained. He constantly shifted and rubbed at the arm that was tightly bound in a sling and his eyes went to the doorway several times as if he wanted to dart back to his cousin's bedside and sit vigil all night.

Mother bravely soldiered on with occasional attempts at conversation.

"Mr. Ramsey," she said, "Silas is a magnificent cook. Perhaps if you prefer something else to eat..." She didn't look at Nick, who just shot her an incredulous glance.

"Hm?" Ramsey looked at her as if he'd just awakened from sleepwalking. "Oh, I-I'm not very hungry, I guess. I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Barkley."

"It's no problem at all. I just want you to keep your strength up. The doctor said you would need to eat a little more while your shoulder is healing."

"Yes ma'am." He bowed his sandy blond head and swiped at his eyes as if brushing away tears. When he glanced up at her, his eyes had noticeably reddened. "I will try." He picked up a fork and jabbed a potato out of his stew. He took barely a bite out of it and set the fork down on his plate, most of the potato still attached.

Nick watched skeptically and took in a breath to say something when Mother intervened.

"Nick, would you please pass the salt?"

He caught her eye and the warning in them. "Of course." He picked up the salt and handed it to her. Relishing the chance to say anything, he offered, "Would you like the pepper too?"

Mother responded with a tense smile. "Why yes, I would, Nick. Thank you very much."

Nick plastered on a smile and avoided Mother's eyes as he turned to Ramsey.

"That road you were traveling on today..." Nick said, and he heard the clink of his mother's fork in an apparent attempt to kindly redirect him. "It's a rough one," he began, knowing full well, he was breaking the promise he'd made to Mother, but his need to know outweighed his duty to propriety. He would apologize later. "You ah, mind telling me how you came to be on it when all the signs indicated there would be blasting and falling rocks ahead?"

Ramsey's blue eyes seemed to come to focus on Nick, razor-sharp for a split second, then going dull again. "I don't know about any signs. I wasn't driving. All I know is my cousin and I were nearly killed because of what you were doing out there." Tears actually pooled in his eyes. "She could be dying up there." He threw his linen napkin on the table and stood. He cast his heated gaze over Nick to his hostess. "Excuse me, Mrs. Barkley," he said and left the table.

"Nick Barkley!" Mother's tone was acidic, and she glared at him regally from the head of the table.

"Mother, that road is no place for a passenger coach. I've never seen one on it. Have you, Heath?"

Heath, who had been silently observing the exchange between Nick and Ramsey, shook his head. "If anything, it's out of the way. That route would add an hour to their trip. And it's just a loop. Doesn't lead anywhere, but back to the main road again."

"They had to have been getting away from someone, or hiding for some reason or another. I just can't come up with a good excuse for that coach to be there."

Mother kept her voice even, though she was as mad as Nick had ever seen her. "Regardless of how they happened to be on that road, the fact remains that a girl is gravely injured and no matter how you look at it, she was hurt because of what we were doing on this ranch. She and her cousin are guests in our house and as long as they're here, they will be treated as such."

Mother stood and swiftly left the room.

Now the only sounds at the dinner table were the occasional clink of silverware against china.

Heath raised a brow. "You've done it now, Nick." He cracked a smile. "Boy, howdy. Don't know how you're going to mend things with Mother."

"You leave that to me." Nick replied; his mood brightened seeing that Heath had come out of his dark mood. He stabbed a potato with his fork and was pleasantly surprised to find that his taste buds actually functioned.

"Maybe you need to leave it to someone who knows how," offered Heath.

"Who? You?"

Heath shrugged and his mood shifted again. He pushed some meat around on his plate. "You know, I feel like I've seen that boy before."

"Ramsey?"

"Yeah. Can't place him though."

"I'm sure it'll come to you."

"Probably," He stopped pushing the food on his plate. "Say, Nick, since we have plenty of men for the drive tomorrow, I thought I might go with Artie to his place, help him figure out a way to get back on his feet."

Nick put down his fork. "Does he understand why he was let go, Heath? I mean, fully understand?"

"Sure he does."

Nick nodded. "But don't leave until I get a chance to talk to him."

"All right."

Silas' potatoes seemed to lose flavor again. Nick put down his fork for the last time. "I'm going to get some shut eye." He pushed back from the table and stood.

Heath returned to his food. "Mend things with Mother first, Nick. Don't let the sun set on that."

"Right." Nick shook his head. "What a night."


	4. Chapter 4

Nick rubbed the back of his neck as he contemplated what he would say to Mother after he blatantly disregarded the promise he'd made to her. She had gone into the guest room where the young lady-what was her name?-lay recovering from her injury. The door was closed and he lifted a hand to knock. He couldn't bring his knuckles down on the hard wood door. Something about disturbing the young lady beyond that barrier had him changing his mind. He would see mother soon enough. Maybe he would have to let the sun set on the small rift between them after all.

He started down the hall and paused then he heard the same door open. Mother stepped out.

"Nick," she said quietly. "Would you be a dear and bring up some fresh bandages? I believe Silas prepared some downstairs, and I didn't have a chance to get them."

"Sure, I'll get 'em," Nick said in an equally quiet tone. "Mother, about the conversation at dinner...as soon as I gave you my word tonight, I broke it. I want to tell you how sorry I am for that."

She took both his hands in hers. "Thank you, Nick. I understand the stress you're having to deal with. I accept your apology. Now hurry with the bandages, will you? She's waking up now, and I want to make sure she's as comfortable as possible."

A sizeable weight Nick didn't realize he'd been carrying, lifted from his shoulders at the news that the girl was recovering. He smiled. "I'll be back in a minute."

A bit later, he was at the door again, still hesitant to just walk in. Damned if he could figure out why. He tapped on the door and then opened it slowly. "Mother?"

"It's my son, Nick," Mother said to the girl. "He's the one who got you out of the wreckage."

The girl hardly moved, but Nick heard a quiet, "Oh."

"Come in Nick. You can help me."

Nick entered the room. The girl laid with her eyes still unopened beneath layers of bedclothes, but when he noticed the lacy straps over the girl's shoulders, he balked. "Mother, don't you think you should wait until Audra comes home? She'll be back tomorrow morning."

"Dr. Merar told us to change this bandage every 2 to 3 hours. It's time. Now, will you please stay and help me?"

He sighed. "All right," he pulled up the only other piece of furniture available, a small, cloth-covered stool, and sat. He felt awkwardly short on a footstool with his mother in the matching chair. "What do you need me to do?"

"Well, first," she said, moving from the chair to the side of the bed. "You take the chair. All I need you to do is make sure," she said as she began to unwrap the old bandage, "that when I replace this bandage, that the new one stays in place until I secure it.

Nick moved to the chair and leaned closer to see.

When Mother gently pulled the old bandage away from the wound, Nick's heart lurched. The doctor had shaved away a patch of that beautiful black hair and just behind her ear was a purplish horseshoe-shaped cut with black stitches holding the flesh together. Nick frowned. There had been a lot of blood before and he'd hoped, because he'd seen superficial scalp cuts bleed like crazy, that this was just a simple injury. Now he knew the wound was deep and didn't look like an easy fix anymore. He bit the inside of his lip and wondered what might come of it.

"Here," Mother said. She held one of the fresh bandages. "Hold it like this," she said as she pressed it over the cut. She pulled back a little on his fingers. "Gently."

He watched his mother work and was familiar with her methods of bandaging hurts, but still somehow he required a bit of guidance on this one. Maybe _his_ head was the one that needed looking after.

Mother was finished. Nick pulled his hand away, but the girl turned her head toward him, her blue eyes were open, but she seemed to look past him. She placed a hand over his.

"You pulled me out of the carriage," she said. "Thank you."

Nick's eyes met his mother's, and when he saw an equal amount of concern in her face; he looked back at the girl. He held up his hand in front of her and moved it from side to side. Her eyes didn't follow. "Can you see me?" he asked, as gently as he could.

The girl was quiet for a long moment and then came a whispered, "No."

Nick hated to ask the next question, but there was no choice. "Were you blind before?"

Her bottom lip trembled. "No!" was her short reply. She turned her head away.

"Jess?"

Nick turned to the sound of the voice. Ramsey had entered and had apparently heard her response. He was pale as a ghost and stood there stiffly, clenching his good hand into a tight fist. "Please," he said. "May I be alone with my cousin?"

"Of course," Mother said. She moved quietly, and Nick helped her pick up the bandaging supplies.

When all was cleared away, Nick wanted to say something to that boy. He wasn't sure what it was he needed to say, but he knew if it came out of his mouth, Mother would need another of his apologies. Something about Edwin Ramsey did not set right, even though he behaved as any "cousin" might under these circumstances. Maybe it was the way he didn't shed a tear now, even though the girl was blind. Nick glared hard at him before he left the guest room, hoping it would set the boy on notice that he wasn't yet trusted by at least one Barkley.

When he shut the door, he found Mother clutching the railing and gazing out over the lonely house. Sensing her sorrowful mood, he approached her quietly.

"She's blind," he said, as if somehow, stating the fact would set it permanently in his mind.

"The doctor said it would be a possibility."

"It's a reality."

She turned to him. "Oh Nick!"

He saw the tears in her eyes and took her in his arms. "It'll be alright, Mother. Everything will be all right."


	5. Chapter 5

The floorboards creaked with Edwin's calculated footsteps. Jess wished she were still in the bliss of unconsciousness because now she would have to deal with him. She kept her head turned away and her eyes closed and brought the soft covers up closer to her chin. There were too many problems to deal with right now. Edwin would only make them worse.

He sat on the edge of the bed. Jess shifted away so she wouldn't be pulled toward him.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

If she could only sense love in that question, then she might forgive him. She doubted he ever felt love for her, even in the beginning, it was just a game. "How do you think I feel?" she said, wishing she could put strength behind her voice. As it was, she just wanted to weep. "My head hurts, Edwin. So badly."

"I know," he said, sounding as if he were intrigued by the idea. "It was quite a blow. I thought you were dead. In fact, I was certain of it at first, but here you are. You made it."

A tear slid down her temple. "I'm _blind_." Just saying it brought more tears.

"Shh. I know," he whispered as if someone would hear them. He patted her shoulder. "Consider it lucky, Jess. I spoke to the doctor last night. He said that if you were blinded, that there's a slight possibility it could be temporary." He leaned forward and hissed in a breath, as if he felt pain. "I was hurt too, Jess," he whispered. "Shoulder. Might take weeks for it to heal properly. You should see this house, Jess! And the land! I've never seen such a spread. We've hit something big here."

She let out a sob. "Please don't! Not now."

"Don't cry." He placed a hand on her upper arm and squeezed gently. "Listen to me. If we play this right. If we really play this, we'll win big! We'll be set for life. We won't have to run anymore. You won't have to set foot in another dirty little town. I'll be able to buy you anything you want-"

She pulled away from his grasp. "Please, Edwin. Let me rest."

"You may not be ready for this right now, but you have to snag fortune when it presents itself. This, Jess, is the opportunity of a lifetime. We can get ourselves out of debt. We can live the way we always wanted! Just let me handle things."

"Edwin...these people have been good to us. I won't cheat them.

"You're distraught. I understand. But listen...we can do this. Our story can be the same as the last time. We're cousins from back East, we have no family to speak of, we've struck out on our own and used everything we had to come West. It'll work perfectly, the fact that we were injured is just icing on the cake."

"I've told you before," Jess said. She turned and opened her unseeing eyes in the hope he would understand her once and for all. "I'm finished with your schemes. I can't do it anymore."

The bed leveled out when he stood. "You have no choice. You know what Carlson will do if we don't pay him back. We need money, and we need it fast. The Barkleys are our ticket out of this mess. Just think about it, all right? At least, don't change the story. If they find out about us, we could end up in prison, or dangle from the end of a noose."

Jess gasped. "Stop it!"

"And don't think for a moment they won't hang a woman, too. We're in this too deep-"

"Just leave me alone, will you?" She turned away from him. She should have fled back in Nevada when she had her chance. "You arrogant, self-serving..." She covered her eyes when she could no longer hold back the tears.

"That's what you like about me. You said so yourself." His footsteps moved away. "You always wanted a strong man. Stick with me, Jess. We'll live like royalty. You'll see." He opened the door. "Good-night, _Cousin_."


End file.
